There Once Lived a Cobbler
by Yunnora Lovespell
Summary: Tack is busy working in his shop on a beautiful pair of shoes when along comes a Thief.


**I love the Thief & the Cobbler. Hands down it is my favorite artistic film. Both the cobbled version and the edited version. I was brought to it by Nostalgia Critic (My favorite critic by the way :) and just fell in love with it. So here is my second fic of it. Hope the fandom grows in popularity one day.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

There once lived a cobbler in the golden city of Baghdad. He was a poor man with very little to share. He spent his days cooped up in his home, tailoring slippers and shoes of the city's finest and it's poorest. Everyday a customer would come and the cobbler would smile, tacks tucked between his lips as he would silently accept their shoes. He was the best footwear mender around but the cobbler never boasted. In fact, he a humble man from humble beginnings; a genuine Tiny Tim of the silent sort.

No the cobbler hardly spoke a word, finding no need. He rather enjoyed the sound of life without the tenor of his voice disrupting its melody. Instead he worked to the sounds of shuffling feet and little children's laughter as they scattered the city streets in a game of ball. If he had to pick laughter would be his favorite sound.

Sitting at his work bench the cobbler sat in utter silence, his dancer like fingers twisting and weaving a yellow thread into a green studded slipper. It was a lovely piece of foot wear. It was made of wonderful quality though it showed a great deal of wear and tear. He didn't mind that it smelled. A shoe was a shoe and in this desert landscape a man's footwear was as precious as his horse.

The pale man smiled, his heart warming as he gazed down at his work. A pair of pale green slippers, fitting for a lady, with jewels encrusted around the toe and heels and now a lovely ribbon of yellow as his own personal touch of décor.

The thief in the window was mesmerized.

The tan man had been standing at the window for quite some time, thinking to himself, watching the young cobbler twist and sew as if being driven by a power so much stronger than himself.

 _My what a lovely pair of shoes_ , the thief thought to himself, entranced.

 _Wouldn't those look good on my own two feet._ His toes wiggled in their worn tan slippers. _Better than these lumps of cloth._

The thief gazed about the room, letting his eyes wander about the checkered colored walls and floor. The cobbler's home was of simple design. Nothing too flashy like rugs and stationed guards, but homely enough for a single man. The cobbler was skinny but so was the thief. He thought no better of it, knowing how hard surviving in this city could be. It was all the thief and the cobbler knew so neither had ever thought to venture far from what they knew as home.

 _Guess I'll just let myself in._

The thief wandered from his place at an open window to the open door. He poked his head inside, spider like fingers clasping the edge of the door. The cobbler had taken a very deep yawn. His prospects looked good and if the cobbler went to sleep the thief would have full rein of the young man's shop.

Tack cupped his hand over his mouth, fighting off yet another yawn. He had been working diligently for hours, never stopping to rest or to take a break. His work was showing for it, however, threads dangling out sloppily and his hands now shaking for exhaust and hunger. He needed food and sleep.

While he didn't have much food he did have a ration of bread and milk tucked away. He would need his strength if he were to finish these shoes in time for the customer's return.

The cobbler set the shoes down, remiss to leave his work unfinished, but feeling his belly gurgle in protest. He stepped away from his work station, mouth watering as he sifted through a trunk. Inside he found the bread, only half stale, and the milk. It was work but hadn't curdled and for that he was grateful.

The cobbler sat upon a small cushion and eat his bread, sipping gingerly at his milk. He preferred cold milk but beggars could not be chooses. To ease his mind he pretended to know what it was like to be of some distinguished house, or even a member of the royal family, being served all the cold milk he could dream of. The food, goodness, he could eat a royal feast at this point. The bread didn't taste as well as it had the night before but it was all he could give his aching belly.

Sitting down the half-finished milk he saved away the rest of his bread and tucked them back into the trunk. Plucking the cushion out from under him Tack shimmied himself to the floor, his bandaged thumb brushing the cold dusty ground as he tried to get comfortable. When one slept upon the ground for so long they sort of get used to it. The only luxury he had to spare was his cushion. Tucking it under his head the cobbler closed his eyes, falling almost immediately into a deep sleep.

The thief wasted no time in sneaking into the cobbler's home. The poor boy didn't have a lock to spare so the thief let himself in, a crooked smile gracing his face.

 _Well that was easy._

There were no dogs, no crocodiles, no tigers to hinder his progress.

With sly smile in place the thief tip toed his way inside, minding the sleeping cobbler. The poor boy looked so thin, so very young. _Why is he alone_ , the thief wondered? Surely the kid had family somewhere. A young wife, a giggling brat nearby?

To his surprise he heard none. Nothing but silence.

The thief felt uneasy but he pushed onward, heeding the call of the jewel encrusted slippers.

They sat upon the cobbler's desk, jewels twinkling in the sunlight spilling in from the open window. Oh the slippers were lovely. Just down right steal-able. They looked so very alone sitting there in the light. The thief would only be doing the cobbler a favor by taking them off his hands.

The cobbler shifted from his place on the floor and the thief twitched. The boy did not wake.

The thief exhaled.

 _What a thrill. Let's not repeat that._

The thief picked up the shoes, admiring the work. Really the cobbler had outdone himself. He'd never seen work so methodical before. The stitch work was charming, drawing his eyes round and around with the swirls that circled around the heels. He glanced back at the cobbler, his throat drying at the pale man on the ground twisted and turned, trying to get comfy.

The thief worked quickly slipping one of the slippers into his oversized sleeve. He made a quick jot for the door but to his dismay, one he was quite familiar with while in his trade, his foot caught. He hadn't noticed a stool on the floor and he tumbled forward upon impact. He felt, the slipper in his had flying from his grasp and landing on the cobbler's face.

Tack woke with a start, grasping his nose where something soft and smelly had it it. He glanced down at his person, finding much to his shock one of the green slippers he had been mending.

He glanced up, blue eyes widened curiously at his work desk. The other shoe… it was gone! Then his gaze shifted to the groaning pile of tan rags near the door. Tack's eyes widened even more. The thief!

The cobbler sprang as quickly as he could to his feet, grasping the slipper in his hand as he reached for the other. The thief looked up in time gasping silently and rolling away from Tack's descent. The cobbler landed in a pile of limbs on the floor, shaking his head in time to see the thief make his way for the door. Tack gabbed the thief's ankle and pulled with all his might. The thief came down, his chin hitting the dirt floor so hard he could see stars.

The cobbler wasted no time in trying to pry the shoe away, teeth gritting and loose tacks falling to the ground from his pockets in the process.

The thief held strong pulling the shoe back hard.

 _Not on your life kid_ , the thief inwardly groaned.

The cobbler was stronger that he looked. It was a practical stalemate between the two starving men as they attempted to tug and twist the shoe out form each other's grasp.

The shoe eventually slipped the thief sweaty hands and Tack got the slipper back. Unfortunately his weight shifted the cobbler went tumbling back. The thief fell too, his arm caught by the cobbler in a desperate move not to fall. They tumbled head over heels, smacking their hands on the ground and limbs tangling uncomfortably between them.

Tack gave a soft wheeze as he landed on his back, weight falling over his top. Sitting on his core was the thief who's head was spinning from the all the action.

 _Whoa what a head trip._

The thief shook his head, willing away the stars in his eyes. He glanced down at the figure below him, eyes widened in shock. Tack's did as well, this time the cobbler's cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

Well this is a fine howdy-do.

The thief threw himself back off the cobbler.

 _Sorry kid. Can't stick around. Got errands to run._

The thief took his half of the prize and sprinted for the door, bypassing the stool as he ran. The cobbler clambered to his feet and ran to the door, stopping only when he realized the thief was no longer in sight. The thief was gone and so was the shoe. It made the cobbler's heart ache.

He had worked so hard on those slippers. His customer was sure to be angry with him. He would have to find a way to replace the shoes.

But wait!

Tack glanced down at the single slipper in his hand. His eyes lit up like the desert sun, the cogs in his head cranking as ideas and formals sprang to the forefront of his mind. He still had the other slipper. With it he could build a whole new shoe to replace the stolen one!

It was funny when he thought about it. The thief had taken a left shoe.

The majority of his collection, footwear of all kinds that had been found and given to him as scraps and waste, were all without the left shoe. He had dozens of right footed shoes, very few with their left mates, but not a single left footed shoe.


End file.
